


what we (could) have

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, F/M, borderlands reverse bang 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 19:45:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14088318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Tim's waiting for his favorite customer; or maybe she's waiting for him.Collaboration with padoranmama on tumblr for Borderlands Reverse Bang 2018.





	what we (could) have

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the art that [pandoranmama](http://pandoranmama.tumblr.com/) submitted to the Borderlands Reverse Bang 2018!

Timothy looks up as the bell over the door rings. He feels his smile falter as he sees who’s coming in - a young couple, out on a date maybe, from the way they’re awkwardly negotiating the space between them. He makes an effort to keep his face pleasant and professional as he takes their order; it’s not their fault that they’re not who he was waiting for.

Not that he’s  _ waiting _ . He’s not  _ waiting; _ he has a cafe to run, he’s certainly not sitting around  _ waiting - _

Richard bumps his elbow on his way past, carefully managing a bin full of used dishes.

“She’s probably just running late,” he says, nudging the door to the back open with one shoulder.

“Yeah,” Tim says absently. “Yeah, I just -” he stops, feeling his ears start to burn. “I’m not  _ waiting _ .”

“Sure you’re not,” Richard says as he finally manages the door. Tim scowls, twisting the towel in his hands.

“Don’t you have a paper to finish?”

Richard pauses. “I mean - yeah, but don’t you want these -”

“The dishes can wait. I’ll get ‘em,” Tim decides, stepping over and taking the bin out of Richard’s hands. “Go on. Less sass, more writing.”

“Yes, sir.” Richard gives him a mock salute and a grin. Tim smiles back, more genuine than a moment ago. Richard undoes his apron and hangs it up, scooping up his backpack from behind the counter, and heads to a corner table, settling in and pulling out his laptop. He’s double-majoring, Tim knows. He sympathizes with the workload; his own night classes take up enough of his time. Tim likes to give the kids a break when he can.

Tim glances up at the clock. Speaking of time, it really  _ is  _ getting late in the day - 

The bell jingles again, and Tim looks out of habit.

“Smile much wider and your face’s liable to split in two,” Nisha drawls as the door swings shut behind her. Tim tries to pull the corners of his mouth down, but the effort just makes him laugh instead.

“I didn’t know you cared about my face,” he says, setting the bin aside and folding his arms on the counter. “That kind of talk can go to a man’s head, you know.”

Nisha’s grin takes on a sly edge. “It’s a handsome face.” She folds her own arms on the counter, mirroring Tim’s pose and leaning in. “Would hate to see it go to waste.”

Tim steadfastly refuses to acknowledge the way his pulse has picked up. This close, he can smell her perfume - something dark and smoky, although he doesn’t know enough about perfume to say what - as well as get a good look at the nasty bruise around her left eye.

Tim frowns, reaching out before he remembers himself and pulls back. “Are you - you’ve got a -” He gestures toward his own face, and Nisha’s hand flies up.

“Oh.” Her smile goes a little straighter, a little less real, and she leans back, spine straightening. “It’s nothing. You should see the other guy.” She laughs, and were it anyone else Tim would take that as the joke it’s clearly supposed to be - but Tim somehow suspects there’s more truth in there than he’s supposed to hear.

Nisha tilts her head, scanning the menu board behind Tim’s head, and Tim straightens, moving toward the register. The moment isn’t broken, not exactly, but it is cooled into something a little more cordial, a little less -

Tim stops himself right there.

“What can I get you?” he asks instead. Nisha’s still looking at the menu, although he’s pretty sure she has it memorized by now.

“Ah - the usual, I guess.” Tim smiles as he rings it up. This is familiar territory - double espresso, the BLT (with extra B), and -

“What kind of pastry are we getting today?” He asks, and Nisha grins, slow and warm.

“Surprise me,” she says as she hands over a twenty, and Tim’s already running through what he has in the case as he counts back her change.

The chocolate cake, that’s too pedestrian. Besides, Tim reminds himself as he pulls the espresso, she had that last week. The raspberry crumble, maybe? Tim glances at the case - no, looks like they’ve sold the last one already. The sandwich comes together automatically as Tim sorts through their usual offerings. There’s snickerdoodle dough in the fridge, but he usually bakes them for the afternoon crowd; what about a chocolate croissant? He doesn’t have any ready made, but he could melt some chocolate and drizzle one of the pastries from this morning.

There’s a loud cough from the corner of the cafe and Tim looks up to see Richard staring at him, then looking significantly to the left.

Tim follow his gaze and - oh, right. He’d forgotten about those.

He brings Nisha her tray himself, rather than just putting her food up on the counter. It’s just good customer service, he tells himself, even as he ignores the fact that he doesn’t do this for anyone else.

“Double espresso,” he says, setting it down gently. “BLT - with extra bacon, don’t worry,” he says as she opens her mouth.

“You know what I like,” she says, sliding a piece out and biting into it. Her eyes flutter and she makes a little noise that has his breath catching.

“I hope so,” Tim says faintly, hoping she can’t see the color he can feel in his cheeks. “I’d hate to be wrong about this, anyway.” Nisha opens her eyes as Tim sets down the cafe’s newest offering: a perfect round little tartlet topped with fresh blueberries and sprinkled with lemon zest.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Nisha says, eyes lighting up. She picks up a fork. “Now  _ this _ I have to try.”

Tim holds his breath as she takes a bite. He’d gone through four recipe variations before he’d settled on this one, and so far it’s been a hit - although now Tim finds himself strangely nervous. What if it’s too sweet? What if it’s not sweet enough? Tim mentally tallies up the ingredients he has left in the kitchen. If the ratios are off in this one he probably can get another batch out today -

Nisha chews thoughtfully and swallows. She puts her fork down and turns to face him more fully.

“Timothy,” she says very seriously.

Tim holds his breath.

“I need you to marry me,” Nisha says, and Richard bursts out laughing in the corner.

“I’m serious,” Nisha continues, although her eyes are sparkling and the corners of her mouth are turning up. “I need you to bake for me every day of my life.”

“I already do that,” Tim says before his brain can stop his mouth, and Nisha laughs.

“Then what are we waiting for, cowboy?” She winks and turns back to her sandwich and Tim hesitates - then he turns and escapes back behind the counter, determinedly not looking in Richard’s direction.

Tim rescues the abandoned bin of dishes and pushes back to the kitchen. He opens the dishwasher and starts rinsing and loading on autopilot, preoccupied with a pair of dark yellow eyes and a wide white smile.

What  _ is _ he waiting for, anyway - a gold-plated invitation? A sign from the heavens? To grow a pair? Tim sighs, hearing that last one in his brother’s voice. Nisha comes by the bakery almost every day before opening up her own shop down the street. Tim had been walking by the discreet shop front for three months after it opened without realizing that “Ms. Kadam” and the dark-haired woman who was becoming a regular were one and the same. 

Tim’s hands slow as he thinks it over. Nisha’s flirting is comfortable, friendly - and Tim’s still half-convinced that friendly is  _ all _ it is. Tim  _ does _ pull the best espresso in a 25 mile radius, and his baking’s not too shabby if he does say so himself. Maybe Nisha just doesn’t like to cook. Maybe getting lunch is easier than bringing it. Maybe asking her out on a date is the worst thing Tim could do to their not-relationship.

But every day Tim finds himself drifting toward the front counter just before noon, even after Richard or Grace or Elana has taken over the register. He sets aside the last lemon tart when they run low because he knows it’s Nisha’s favorite, and her delighted grin when he presents her with it sets off a bloom of warmth in his chest that stays with him all the way home that evening.

Tim blinks at the plate in his hands, suddenly unsure how long he’s been holding it. He loads it carefully and starts the dishwasher, glancing back toward the front of the cafe.

Maybe she’ll laugh it off. Maybe she won’t. Either prospect is terrifying in its own way - but suddenly more terrifying is the prospect of missing his chance.

Tim undoes his apron as he heads back toward the front of the cafe, slinging it over a stool and quickly checking the rest of his clothes for any rogue flour dustings or mystery stains. He pushes through the door that leads to the front counter, ready to seize his opportunity -

The front of the cafe is silent, Nisha’s table sitting empty.

“There you are,” Richard says right next to him, and Tim jumps. “I was about to send out a search party.”

“I -” Tim glances around, but there’s no sign of anyone else, just Richard resettling his apron around his neck, getting ready to get back to work. Tim looks at the clock and deflates.

“I guess I lost track of time,” he says, stepping aside to let Richard slide past him and pick up an empty bin.

Richard snorts. “Dishes that fascinating, huh?” He sidesteps the dishrag Tim throws at him with a cheeky grin, and goes to bus Nisha’s table.

Tim sighs, moving back toward the register. It’s probably just as well. What would he even ask her -  _ do you want to get coffee sometime?  _ She gets coffee, every day, from him.  _ Can I take you out for dinner?  _ She works almost as much as he does. 

_ I want to know what kind of faces you’ll make for a creme brulee or a chocolate mousse. I want to know why you sometimes come in with bruises but won’t talk about them. I want to know you _ . That’s all true, but it doesn’t matter if she’s not here to hear it.

Richard swings by the front counter on his way to the back with the bin of dishes, pushing a paper napkin into Tim’s hand.

“This is for you,” he says, bumping the door open with his hip. “You’re welcome.”

“Do I have something on my face?” Tim says bemusedly.

Richard’s already halfway disappeared into the back to set the dishes down, but he comes back out, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and rolling his eyes.

“ _ No _ ,” he says. “But you’re lucky I had a pen on me.” With that non-sequitur, he moves back out to the tables to start wiping them down.

That - doesn’t make any sense. Then Tim looks down at the napkin in his hand, and his heart jumps into his throat.

There’s a phone number, and a message.  _ When you’re tired of waiting,  _ it says,  _ give me a call. Otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow. _

It’s unsigned, but then, he knows who it’s from.

“Can you, uh.” Tim clears his throat as Richard raises his eyebrows. “Can you watch the front for a minute?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Richard says with a knowing grin. Just this once, Tim will let him get away with it.

Tim pushes back through the door, already pulling his phone from his pocket. He enters the number carefully, saving it.

_ Nisha Kadam _ . He looks down at the screen for a moment. He likes the look of her name there.

Behind him Tim hears the faint jingle of the bell over the door. More customers; Tim should be out there greeting them, taking their order. He shouldn’t make Richard do all the work.

But just this once, Tim thinks as he lifts the phone to his ear, all that can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
